Murcielago
by Galatea
Summary: Orihime risks everything in the hope of bringing Ulquiorra back.
1. Gone, But Not Forgotten

**Author's Note:** Tomorrow I have a massive interview at work, and typically as it's a very highly stressful interview, rather than work on my Powerpoint Presentation, I had an idea for a fanfic instead.

This is a scene I've had in my head for a while, though it only really became an idea for a fully fledged story today when I was trying to budget for next year's marketing spend. I was always quite fascinated by the relationship between an Arrancar and their zanpakutou, plus I've always thought it a shame that we never got to see more of Murcielago or Segunda Etapa. Just something about Ulqui in full-powered evil mode that gets my blood flowing.

**Warnings:** Swearing, but nothing sexual yet. I'm sure that'll come later though!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. You can tell, because if I DID own Bleach, Ulqui would NOT BE DEAD.

Murcielago

1: Gone, But Not Forgotten

"No..."

His hand was slipping away. There was nothing she could do. She stared at his face as if mesmerised as first his raven hair, then his pale ear, then those penetrating green eyes all disintegrated into nothing.

"No... no..."

His dust was caught by a sudden gasp of wind that came from nowhere and sent the specks rolling, cartwheeling over each other and dancing away, and Inoue found herself stumbling towards them. Her legs were exhausted, her whole body was aching, but she scrambled forward - her ankles giving out periodically and nearly dumping her on the stark, cold ground.

"No... it can't... it can't be..." tears had started to stream, and she couldn't see anymore. She couldn't see the stones beneath her feet, nor the one that was a foot high and caught the remains of the hem of her dress. She tripped and finally hit the floor, scraping gouges in both her knees and tearing her palms to shreds as she pushed herself upright again.

Footsteps behind. Someone running. Calling her name.

She span around and struck out, catching Kurosaki unexpectedly a blow to the side of his head. He had neither seen it coming, nor strengthened his reiatsu in preparation, and he found himself wincing and gripping his now bleeding ear, as the bracelet Orihime was wearing took a nick out of the lobe. She turned back, kneeling down, practically shaking with passion.

"No, you can't... you can't take him from me!" she shrieked into the wind, the gusts starting to tear up around her and sending more ash hither and thither in front of her. "Give him back – give him back!"

"Inoue-san..." Ichigo stood behind her, not daring to approach and touch her, but trying to remain as close as he dared should she lash out again. "What's wrong? He's gone, you're safe now. He tried to kill you."

"Shut up!" she roared over her shoulder. "You didn't know him – you have no idea about him – you don't know anything about who he was – shut up shut up shut up!"

She beat the ground with her fists, a guttural scream surging up her windpipe and erupting from her lips.

Ichigo didn't know what to do. He turned around – he could see Uryuu bleeding to death on the ground. He needed help – there was no time for Orihime's histrionics. "Inoue-san," he implored. "Please – Ishida..."

"I don't care..." she groaned, beyond consolation. "I don't care, I hope he dies, I hope we all do. You stabbed him _you stabbed him_ Kurosaki-kun – when you were meant to be protecting us. You killed everyone... Ulquiorra..."

She hung her head and wept feverishly, unable to take command of her body or emotions. It had finally happened. After all those years of holding in all that pain about her brother – her fears of being useless - her feelings for Ichigo – it was all coming out in a great torrent.

She leant forward, clutching her hands together desperately.

"Inoue, what are you?"

"I'm PRAYING, what does it LOOK LIKE?" she retorted.

"Praying why?"

"Praying for his soul," she bit back through her sobs. "I'm praying that there's somewhere for his soul to go now, praying that he might get a second chance. I'm praying that his soul could make it to Soul Society, or somewhere, but please... he can't just be gone – he can't just be _gone_."

Ichigo had taken about as much of this as he could stand. He had been fighting for weeks – weeks – to get to Orihime – he had risked his life, they all had. He'd been beaten to within an inch of his life, he'd gazed down without fear into his inevitable death as that demon had held him up by his neck and blasted a hole through his heart, and now Inoue wouldn't even speak to him. No – she was too busy mourning her kidnapper like he was some kind of fucking saint.

"Orihime, STOP IT!" he grabbed her arm and pulled her up to standing, shaking her, trying to be gentle but too angry to give it much thought. "Orihime – he was evil – he was working for Aizen – and now he's DEAD. He's not coming back."

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

He dropped her and stepped back, unable to bear it another second. He turned his back, walked a few paces away, and, confronted by Uryuu lying motionless, turned back. "Orihime – for the love of God – please..."

She wasn't listening. She was kneeling again, pressing her fingertips to her Shun Shun Rikka and mumbling their names through clenched teeth.

"Orihime..."

There was a flash and suddenly six tiny fairies swirled in the air around her head like a halo. The small creatures circled and looped a couple of times before coming to rest – one on each shoulder, another on her forehead, and the last on her knees. They were scared, but as always, calm and purposeful.

"Orihime – what on earth is the matter?"

"Orihime – how can we help you?"

"Tell us what to do."

"Stupid girl – stop this crying. Tell me who you want me to kill."

"Tsubaki, be gentle..."

"Tch."

"Please... pleasepleaseplease," she mumbled through her fingers. "You have to help me – you have to _help_ me."

"Orihime – for God's sake..." but Ichigo could see she wasn't listening. She moved herself, pulling her knees up under her chin, and the tiny fairies scurried and landed in new positions, close to her mouth so they could hear their mistress speak.

"Ul-Ulquiorra..."

The fairies looked at each other knowingly. Only Orihime's hairpins had been close enough to her to have seen everything that had gone on since she'd left for Hueco Mundo. "Hime – he is lost..." whispered Ayame sadly. "His soul has dissolved – there's nothing left for us to bring back."

"No – I won't accept it – there's got to be something. There's got to be something left," she whispered. "He isn't completely gone – there was ash. I saw ash – that's something isn't it?"

"He is scattered to the desert," consoled Lily. "It could take centuries to find him again – his entire soul is in fragments – the pain of reassembling him would be excruciating."

"For him?" Inoue whispered.

The fairies looked at each other. "No – for you," they said in unison.

"We'd have to use your reiatsu to bind his soul together," explained Ayame. "The process would drain you almost completely – you may not survive at all. And if we revived him... I don't know what he might come back as," he added softly. "No one has ever even tried to revive a Vasto-Lorde before. No one has wanted to."

"You have got to be joking – why are we even considering this?" yelled Tsubaki, buzzing around her head like an angry fly. Orihime batted him ineffectually, and he burnt her finger savagely. "He is the enemy – he is dead now – this is a _good thing_."

"I need to heal Ishida-kun first," she said, standing shakily.

"But that will drain you more!" Ayame protested.

"I don't care about that – I don't care if it takes all my reiatsu – I have to bring him back. Help me."

Ichigo had little choice but to lead her towards Uryuu, but a plan was forming in his head. He'd allow her to heal Ishida, then he'd hit her as lightly as he could with the pommel of his zanpakutou, knocking her unconscious. He'd take her back to Earth, and she'd wake up in her bed, calm and happy and pretty and exactly like the Inoue he had known his whole life, and nothing like this terrifying woman before him now. He had never seen an expression of such unopposed angst on her lovely face as he saw now. What had happened? What had happened to Orihime? What had Ulquiorra done to her?

Inoue knelt down by Ishida's side, holding out her hands and murmured, "Soten Kisshun," and her fairies flew down, met briefly then stretched out a great glowing sheath over his belly and arm. Orihime stared directly ahead of her, an expression of intense concentration creasing her brow. She was pushing them, they could feel it. Pushing her own reiatsu into the ability to heal Ishida more quickly.

Kurosaki could see Ishida was almost healed and readied himself. When he thought that Inoue wasn't aware of him, he lifted his hilt and brought it down. The wind obscured the words she whispered from her mouth, and he didn't hear her before the butt of his sword connected with a thick golden shield.

The shield stayed steady. It didn't crack, it didn't dissipate – it seemed made of stronger stuff than before. Tempered by the sheer force of Orihime's willpower. Inoue stood and looked at him through the amber window. "Go away now," she whispered to him. "Go away... Kurosaki-kun."

She turned and walked a few paces, shield still in place and planted the soles of her feet on the ashy ground. She then rubbed her palms together gently and closed her eyes.

"Soten Kisshun... I reject."

Ayame and Shun'o nodded to each other and joined hands, then as if being blasted from a cannon, then shot upwards into the sky. The whole place lit up as though a firework display was going on overhead, and great balls of golden electricity tore open the sky. Orihime's clothes were caught up in a cyclone, the threads left on her shoulders were torn from her body, leaving her in tattered skirt and bodice, the remains of the garb of her imprisonment. She opened her eyes, feeling the energy of her ability inside her for the first time, driving down her bones, muscles and flesh, and into the ground.

"... I. Reject."

Kurosaki, seeing that something hitherto unknown was soon to descend upon them, left her side and headed for cover, scooping Ishida up as he went and throwing him over his back to head for the cave where just a few short minutes ago, Ulquiorra had shattered Ishida's arm. He skidded as he landed, dropping Ishida and pressing his back against the inside of the entrance way as the world exploded and the cave was flooded with light so bright and strong that it burnt everything it touched. He shouted aloud as his arm was caught in the force of it, and his skin blistered instantly. He rolled closer to the wall, pulling Uryuu against his chest in an attempt to shelter the both of them.

And just as suddenly as it had began, the light ceased, and darkness enveloped the cave. Ichigo found himself clutching an uncertain but now conscious Ishida, who pulled himself abruptly away, nursing a burnt shin. He pulled another shot of anaesthetics from his white costume and injected his leg roughly. "Kurosaki... what is going on?" he demanded. "Where is Inoue-san?"

Ichigo didn't even know how to begin answering that question. He didn't know how else to tell Ishida that the world had gone mad, Inoue had lost her mind, and was trying to pull the tiny pieces of Ulquiorra's soul back together.

Inoue... was there anything left of her now? Or had Hueco Mundo and Los Noches completed destroyed her?

He should have been more careful. He should never have let them take her. He should have kept her close. He should have been less of a child about her feelings – but then he had no idea whether he returned them. Now he'd lost her. Now he'd never know.

Ishida was already on the move, and Ichigo flew out of the cave behind him, heading for where he'd last seen Inoue – over the hill, just on the other side. What would be there? Her charred body? Ash? Surely nothing could have withstood the force of that blast. He could see that the sand had been melted into glass – more of the massive pillars he had smashed in his bout with Ulquiorra had been decimated. Where was Inoue?

But no, Orihime wasn't dead. She stood now in the centre of all this destruction, standing on her two feet as she had been when he'd fled. Her palms were no longer together, but instead in front of her and outstretched, facing the sky. They had been empty before, but now they held the shape of something that Ichigo could not possibly mistake even from this distance.

Inoue still had her eyes shut. She didn't dare open them – she didn't know what she would find. Would he be standing there before her? Or would she open her eyes and know from the silence all around that Ulquiorra was truly gone and there was nothing at all she could do to ever change that.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Ulquiorra was nowhere to be seen. In the palms of her trembling outstretched hands was the glinting blade of Murcielago.


	2. What's In A Name?

**Author's Note:** Part two – this one rather long. Not too much from our friend Mr. Cifer (or Schiffer – whichever you prefer) yet – but it's coming soon I promise. It's midnight on Christmas eve – hope Santa doesn't mind that I'm up reading fanfiction instead of sleeping...

**Warnings:** Nothing at all sinister in this chapter – a tiny bit of swearing – nothing sexy yet – but things are going to hot up in the next couple of chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. You can tell, because if I DID own Bleach, Ulqui would NOT BE DEAD.

Murcielago

2. What's In A Name?

"How long as she been out for?"

"It's been nearly 5 days now. We might... well. I don't want to believe it but – we might have to start accepting the fact that wherever Orihime is – she doesn't want to come back."

Ishida was searching for some hint that Kisuke Urahara might be joking. Normally the disorganised and almost childish shopkeeper always had a smile on his lips – a giggle waiting behind some serious statement – but today there was none. Orihime had been in a coma for 5 days, and was showing no sign that she'd be coming back to them. Ichigo had sat with her for hours, but as yet – nothing had induced her to respond.

"I just... I can't believe that she'd leave us this way," he said, lowering his head, the light catching off the lenses of his glasses and – thankfully – hiding the sadness in his eyes. Ishida wasn't a sensitive soul, but when it came to Inoue, he had always held her in such high regard, and had such respect for her love and energy, that the idea of pressing on without her as a member of their group was just unthinkable.

Shihouin Yoruichi stood in front of the countertop in the kitchen at the back of the Urahara store, her arms folded, gripping her left elbow with the fingers of her right hand. She occasionally would pull at the fabric, a clear indication that she was thinking. "I don't understand," she said, almost to herself. "I don't understand what happened – how can you tell us that this Arrancar died - this – what was his name again?"

"Ulquiorra."

"Had he shown her some kind of great kindness? Did he help her escape?"

"No..." Ishida pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with his index finger and leant back against the doorframe. "No there was nothing to indicate that he played any role in helping her escape. I've talked to Kurosaki since and he said that when he flew to help Inoue-san and protect her from two women Arrancar, Ulquiorra blocked him from helping Inoue. He definitely wasn't her saviour. If Yammy hadn't shown up and interrupted, Inoue-san..." He grimaced. "I don't think she would have survived."

"But she demonstrated such loyalty to him," Yoruichi commented, moving her arms and bringing her fingers to her forehead to massage her temples. "She risked her own life to try and bring him back from the dead."

"... which seems to have failed," Ichigo added, having just passed through the threshold, his hands carrying a bowl of lukewarm water, with a washcloth hung over the edge. "There was no sign of Ulquiorra after the technique was used. Even if she'd brought him back, I can't help but think he would have been vapourised by that ability she used..." he headed over to the kettle, filled it at the sink, and switched it on to boil.

"Not necessarily," interrupted Uryuu a little more aggressively than he intended to. "He was incredibly powerful. While you do not remember turning into that Hollow... beast. Whatever it was – Ulquiorra fought with him for a time before he was completely overwhelmed. The level of power the both of you exhibited is something I've never seen before. He was able to slip straight past me with his Sonido before..." Ishida cradled his elbow in remembrance. If he closed his eyes he could still hear the crack and tear of muscle and bone as Ulquiorra had broken his arm as though it were a breadstick. "Potentially he could have withstood the level of heat from Inoue-san's technique."

"The idea that she could resurrect someone from beyond death..." Yoruichi looked up at Kisuke, "It can't... surely it's not even possible."

"There is much that we do not know about Orihime-san's powers," Urahara replied sombrely. "Of all the abilities exhibited by members of our group – hers are perhaps the ones that we know the littlest about. Kuchiki-san is a shinigami. Uryuu-san is a Quincy – but Inoue-san..." he trailed off. "We do not know precisely where her powers come from."

"Either way," said Kurosaki, hearing the kettle click behind him to indicate it had fully boiled, "Ulquiorra was not there after the technique was finished. It's been 5 days and we haven't seen anymore of him. Whatever she tried to do, failed."

"She's been through a lot," added Uryuu quietly. "We shouldn't be so hard on her. She was a captive of theirs for month and had a kind soul. She would be very easily susceptible to Stockholm syndrome."

All of their gloomy thoughts were cut short as the door opened again and Rukia burst through with Abarai in tow. "She's awake!" she shouted, panting from having run from the other side of the house. "Orihime-san - she's awake!"

Orihime Inoue had never examined a zanpakutou this close up before. It was really a beautiful piece of craftsmanship – not that a zanpakutou was crafted in the traditional sense. As far as she understood the process, when a soul in Soul Society became a shinigami they were imbued with power, and with this power came a zanpakutou born of their reiatsu. Was it the same for an Arrancar?

She edged it perhaps an inch from it's holster just to look at the blade. It was made of what to the naked eye appeared to be folded steel, but it was so sharp and so well maintained that it seemed to glow in the dim light of her little recovery room. The motion was smooth, she could feel no friction against the sheath as she allowed it to slide back so the blade was fully covered again.

The holster itself was made of jade, and had obviously been well cared for. She didn't know anything about the types of materials that made up a zanpakutou, but her best guess was that the grip itself was wrapped with some kind of strong metal and then wrapped again with some kind of heavy-duty, braided thread. The hilt was fashioned into the shape of an eye – Ulquiorra's motif of sorts. So long as she lived, she'd never forget those eyes – large, green – like a cat. She remembered how Ulquiorra had always talked about his eyes being able to see everything. What would he say if he could see her now, holding his sword?

It was a vicious weapon but it didn't scare her at all. How appropriate.

"Inoue-san – you're awake!"

She looked up and saw several obviously relieved smiles at the doorway. She grinned and reached her hand behind her head, playing with her hair, embarrassed at the sudden attention.

"Ah – everyone," she grinned sheepishly. "I'm so sorry I worried you."

She seemed like herself. She seemed like Inoue-san again. Ichigo felt as though the constricted feeling in his chest was finally starting to loosen. "We were worried..." he said, entering the room, followed by the others one by one until they were all either sat or stood at Orhime's bedside. "I'm so relieved you're okay."

"Inoue-san... do you remember what happened?"

"Idiot!" Rukia Kuchiki batted Ishida on the back of the head with her hand, pushing him away so she could lean in more closely to Orihime. "Just ignore him – these boys have been blabbering non-stop about what happened – but you should just focus on feeling better!"

"Haha – Uryuu – you should know better!" Abarai shook his finger, but abruptly ceased when he received a warning look from Rukia. "Ah yes – just focus on getting well again!"

"Please – please – everyone – I'm ok really!" Inoue giggled softly, pulling the blankets further up her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs to bring them up to her chest.

"You always say that..."

"... but you are usually just trying to calm us down," agreed Yoruichi. "Inoue... I hate to trouble you so – but potentially what happened that night could be important. Do you remember – did you see Ulquiorra? What were you trying to do and more importantly," she added grimly, "Did it work?"

If one of Aizen's most powerful henchmen was about to reappear, she wanted to know about it.

"No... no I didn't see him."

The sadness in Orihime's eyes confirmed Urahara's suspicions that there had been much more to her relationship with the Cuatro Espada than they had thought. While Ichigo had insisted over and over that Orihime had temporarily lost her wits and entered a kind of heightened and hysterical state, there was nothing hysterical or mad about the girl that sat before them now. If he was to guess he'd say that she was slipping into the first stage of mourning. She had never looked more downcast.

"I thought..." she continued after some time, "that I could use Ayame and Shun'o... I thought maybe they would be able to bring him back. I thought that maybe I could do what Aizen had thought. I thought that maybe I could reject what had happened. Reject fate."

"But that's... that's not possible surely?"

Orihime looked up at Kisuke out of wide, shimmering grey eyes, "Why should it not be possible? Ulquiorra he said..." she looked away, shame-facedly. "He said that my ability could reject fate. That I could change the course of history."

"Hey – hey!" Rukia butted in again and booted Kisuke in the shin roughly. He hollered aloud in pain and promptly fell over the stool where Kurosaki had been sitting, ending up in a tangle of robes and sandals on the floor. "Enough of that – shopkeeper!" She stood up and glowered around at everybody until they all adopted sheepish expressions, "Now Orihime has had a rough enough time without getting any of this sort of third degree from you!" She started towards the door and managed to grab both Ichigo and Renji by the collar as she did so, dragging them kicking and protesting out of the door and into the hallway. "Have a nice rest, Inoue-san!" she called over her shoulder as they disappeared off down the corridor, "We'll be right here if you need us!"

"Hehe – they're so high spirited," Urahara giggled to himself, picking up his cane and trailing after them.

Yoruichi stood a moment at the doorway, but eventually nodded as if in agreement with a comment she'd made, then disappeared from view.

Ishida rose to his feet, looking down at Orihime before finally saying, "I know something happened to you in Los Noches. I know it had something to do with Ulquiorra, but if you don't want to tell us – that's fine. I just want you to know – we all are here if you need us or want to talk."

"Haha – Ishida-kun – you're so serious!" Orihime waved her hands dismissively. "Please please don't be so worried about me – I'm fine – nothing happened really! I just was feeling really upset about everything that happened, and I didn't want you to worry – and I'm sorry I didn't heal you as fast as I should have Ishida-kun – I feel terrible about that and I hope you didn't hurt for very long and that you felt much better after I healed you – and you really don't need to worry about Ulquiorra-kun now as he's gone – he's gone... far far away..." she trailed off and grinned.

Her eyes were swimming with tears. He could only admire how much self control it must have been taking to stop them from tumbling down her cheeks.

"I'll be in the next room if you need me... Inoue-san," he said, dropping her a bow. "Thank you for healing me. I feel in great health as always, thanks to you."

She blushed warmly. "I am glad."

Uryuu left shortly afterwards, closing the door as he went. He walked away quickly. He didn't want to overhear the sobs that he knew were inevitably going to follow.

Inoue slept – it was the only thing she wanted to do. She still felt so tired, like all of her limbs were huge barbells. Her body felt unwieldy, her mind just felt like it was full of cotton wool. She had tried to summon the Shun Shun Rikka to heal her, but no matter how many times she called, they didn't answer. Were they angry at her for what she'd asked of them? She wouldn't have even minded if Tsubaki alone had appeared to chide her for her stupidity or bat her over the ear. The petals on her hairpins were still in place, meaning that none of them were gone or destroyed. They just weren't answering.

All this left Inoue feeling a little destitute and alone. Her chest was aching and she was desperate to be able to tell her friends about everything that had happened and about her feelings for Ulquiorra – but she knew that there was no way they could possibly understand. Or worse – they'd pass it off as some kind of psychological issue. The image of her friends all wrestling her into the back of a little white van to be carted off to an institution popped unwelcome into her head and she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

Acknowledging reality was just not something she was ready for yet. And therefore she slept.

After 3 days of sleeping on and off, Ichigo came to see her one morning, when the sun was just started to peep through the blinds. It was a beautiful day – the end of winter was finally in view. Icicles were melting, and the bright early morning glow made everything gleam like burnished bronze.

"Inoue..." he gently touched her arm. She was already awake, but nevertheless made sounds as if he had just now stirred her from slumber.

"Ah – Kurosaki-kun!" she said brightly. She'd gotten rather good at pretending that nothing was troubling her. "I'm so tired!" she giggled. "What time is it?"

"It's 9am," the substitute shinigami said grimly. "We should think about getting you up out of bed today – taking a little walk perhaps?"

Orihime couldn't help but marvel over her change of attitude since she'd been away. Before her kidnap, she'd have jumped at the chance of a romantic early morning stroll with Ichigo. Even now, he was obviously still very handsome. His brown eyes were full of sympathy and care, and his orange hair was lightly tousled from being towel dried after a shower. He was only in jeans and a t-shirt but he was – to her at least – everything that a first boyfriend should have been. Everything she had wanted.

"I'm so sleepy," she said, feigning a yawn. "Can I sleep a little longer and walk later?"

"Inoue-san..." Ichigo looked at her, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek. It should have felt loving. Instead it felt alien.

"Umm – yes?"

"Let's go."

It took a little while to get her out of bed, but soon enough Orihime was brushing her beautiful auburn tresses and pinning her hair back out of her eyes. She looked, if she was honest with herself while looking in the mirror, a little sunken in the cheeks from eating very little, but other than that – you could hardly tell the ordeal she'd been through. Maybe because Ulquiorra had kept her well-fed and taken her for walks around the compound to keep her exercised.

She smiled at the thought of him, leading her around in those early days, rather like an impatient owner taking a new born puppy out on the leash for the first time. Orihime had wanted to investigate everything, peering down from the great bridges that led between the towers of Los Noches, and running giggling through the tunnels with her laughter echoing around the ceiling panels.

"_You are so tedious," _he would say, as he used Sonido to flash in front of her, bringing her light-hearted excursions to an abrupt standstill. _"Honestly, I show you the most mundane of things and you act as though I've brought you to a funfair."_

"_Does Lord Aizen not want me to be happy?_" she would reply, grinning from ear to ear. "_I thought it was your duty to make sure I had everything I wanted?_"

If Ulquiorra could have demonstrated frustration, no doubt he would have. He was a man excellent at suppressing even the tiniest glimmer of humanity. Orihime could not help but take an almost perverse satisfaction out of whatever tiny, micro-expressions her responses would draw. This time it was a slight huff of air, and the tensing of his right fist inside his hamaka.

"_Lord Aizen said that he would like for you to get to know your new 'home',_" he said, matter-of-factly. "_He didn't specify whether you should enjoy it or not._"

"_Then presumably_," she placed her index finger on her bottom lip, in mock contemplation, "_whether or not I enjoy the excursion is my choice_."

A long pause. "_Yes_."

"_And not yours_."

An even longer pause. "_Yes_."

"_Then I choose – enjoyment!_" she said gleefully, leaping into the air and throwing her arms up. Ulquiorra observed her as though she was having some sort of seizure, but said absolutely nothing. "_Now_," she said, looking around carefully, "_Where do you make the ice cream?_"

"_... There is NO ice cream in Los Noches..._"

"What are you smiling at?"

Ichigo's question brought Inoue back to herself, and she looked up from her snow cone. It had been an odd idea to buy one, but they had come across a seller in the middle of the park as they'd been walking, and she'd been attracted to the lovely little pink and blue spheres. Her snow cone was pink, and Ichigo's was blue. She held hers in her brightly gloved hands and pressed the tip of her tongue to it's freezing surface, letting it melt on to her lips.

"Kurosaki-kun – can I... ask you something?" she said.

The question surprised him. Up until now, she had hardly said a word, only responding when he'd ask her a question directly, then disappearing into thought again like a whale disappearing back into the deep, dark ocean.

"Of course – Inoue-san," he said with a smile. "You can ask me anything."

"Ulquiorra..." she began. She could see him start to frown immediately.

"Inoue-san – he's..."

"I know – I know he's gone – I just... I have to ask you a question."

Ichigo closed his eyes and nodded. "Go on then."

"What did he... when he released his zanpakutou... what did he say?"

Kurosaki opened his eyes and turned his face to look at her quizzically. "What did he say? Other than, 'You have no hope for survival'? Other than, 'I will destroy you and everyone you care about'?"

The resentment was awful. Orihime felt sick – of course Kurosaki's experience of Ulquiorra was utterly different from her own. He'd spent a fraction of the time with him that she had. Ulquiorra had always seen Ichigo as something that needed to be destroyed, and had tried to do so more than once before their final bout. Why should Ichigo not feel so much negative emotion towards a man who had tried to kill him, and had even succeeded, albeit temporarily?

"No I mean – what was the command he gave?" she said carefully. "You know – like... when Grimmjow released his zanpakutou he said, "Grind – Pantera!" and when Nnoitra unleashed his zanpakutou – he said, "Pray – Santa Teresa!" Do you... do you remember what Ulquiorra said when he released his zanpakutou?"

"You want to know..." Ichigo looked away and then down at the ground. "You want to know the name of his zanpakutou, don't you?" He screwed up his hand into a fist and closed his other hand around it and squeezed. He turned his head away again as if pained, stood and then threw his snow cone over her head and into the bushes. "You just... you just don't get it, do you?"

He was about to launch into another angry rant, but Orihime looking up at him out of those huge silver eyes was just too much to bear. His brow furrowed and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing for this whole repulsive situation to just screw itself up into a ball and disappear.

"He said, "Enclose – Murcielago"."

"Murcielago," Orihime repeated slowly. "Murcielago."

"Don't say it," Ichigo snapped. "Just – don't."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking away. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go right now, but he knew he didn't want to be here listening to this. He heard Orihime call out his name from behind, but the thought of staying behind to talk about the _dearly departed_ Ulquiorra just filled him with hate and bile and... what was this? Jealousy? Was he really jealous just because Orihime had wanted to know the name of a sword?

It was stupid, and because it was such a stupid reason to be angry, it just made him angrier that he felt that way.

Inoue watched him leave, her mind on other things. She reached down beneath her long coat, finding the hilt of Ulquiorra's zanpakutou and wrapping her fingers around the comforting hardness of it's well-worn grip. She felt a shiver go up her spine as though it was humming with static electricity, and smiled despite herself.


	3. Resurreccion

**Author's Note:** I'm writing on Xmas day – I must be enjoying writing this. Any typos and spelling errors I blame on the wine.

**Warnings:** Some strong but infrequent swearing, also sexual content. If you're offended by lemons / writing of a sexually deviant nature – please look away now.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. I just like to borrow the characters and make them do dirty things to each other for my own nefarious purposes.

Murcielago

3. Resurreccion

Breathless, Orihime ran through the doorway of her little apartment, kicking the door to behind her.

Finally. Ever since she'd been freed from Hueco Mundo she hadn't had one moment to herself - barely a second to just take stock of her situation. At last, she stood in her own living room, her chest heaving from running most of the way home from the park, Ulquiorra's zanpakutou banging against her hip the whole way.

It would leave an impressive bruise but she didn't care. She threw off her jacket, which pooled around her feet, and then pulled off the thick, long cardigan that Rukia had insisted on lending her before she'd left the Urahara store. Murcielago she had tied around her waist by removing her shoe laces and fastening them together to make a belt. She'd doubted that Ichigo would have been willing to walk with her knowing she had a piece of Ulquiorra concealed beneath her clothing.

She slipped off her shoes and left them by the doorway, then went about untying the complicated knot in belt, placing Murcielago carefully down on her coffee table. She had expected the place to be a lot more untidy – Rangiku-san was hardly known for her neatness, and Captain Hitsugaya had frequently been swept into the chaos of her activity despite his best attempts to avoid it. However, instead of disorder she found that almost nothing was out of place at all. The rugs still had dark ruffles from where the hoover had been, and every surface still smelt of wood polish.

In fact she'd go so far as so say the tidiness had Uryuu's stamp on it. Methodical, dependable Ishida-kun had been here – she was sure. She could even see where one of her cushions had been neatly darned to cover a growing hole.

She sat down in the middle of the couch, resting her palms on the seating cushions, stroking her fingers across the material. She could hardly believe how long it had been since she'd last sat here. When she'd been taken it had been the end of autumn, leaves were starting to fall. Now the trees were beginning to bud, hailing the return of springtime along with melodious birdsong. All that time had passed – but home was still just home. The shrine she kept for her brother, Sora, was perfectly maintained, and Ishida had clearly polished the photo frame as it glimmered faintly in the light of the early afternoon.

All that time away, all that time being held captive in a foreign place – but now she was home she felt lonelier than ever. She'd spent a lot of nights in Los Noches sat beneath her window and gazing out of the bars at the moon. She had wondered if it ever waned or waxed. She'd wondered when her next meal was coming, and when Aizen would want to see her. Most of all she'd wondered when Ulquiorra would come to see her, and why he'd spend so much time just sitting in her room with her, while she'd chatter, eat or read a book. He was full of retorts, pithy remarks and cold comebacks, and yet just having him there kept her sane. On days he didn't come, she'd miss his presence. She'd lie awake and feel for his reiatsu, like a child waiting to hear the sound of the front door indicating that their absent parent had now returned home safely. As soon as she felt him re-enter Los Noches she'd instinctively relax and start to doze off. No harm would come to her as long as he was there.

She sighed and put her face in her hands, a few stray tears squeezing their way out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She had a piece of him here, now – but Ulquiorra – the man that she had known – was gone. Why had it taken so long for him to realise all the things she felt?

Orihime flipped her hair over her shoulders and stood, taking Murcielago by the scabbard, and gripping the handle in her right hand. She moved out of the way of the couch carefully, finding a spot in the middle of the rug, then held the beautiful weapon out in front of her.

It was a long-shot – but then... she had to try. She had to know.

"ENCLOSE! MURCIELAGO!"

With a firm grip, she pulled the blade from the scabbard, pointing it off into the distance, towards the front door, just 6 feet or so away. She wasn't sure what she had been hoping for – a swirl of power perhaps, flickering green lights and a rush of energy – but nothing happened.

The blade was singing - a soft, high pitched note that was gradually diminishing. She listened to it as long as her ears were sensitive enough to pick up the sound, then lowered her head.

The sword hadn't changed. Didn't most shinigami's swords transform into their shikai form at this stage? Arrancar swords didn't work the same way – she remembered. When Grimmjow had released his zanpakutou, he'd _become_ "Pantera". There had been a definite and clear melding of the zanpakutou with his body.

Ulquiorra's form had been utterly different. Ichigo had told her in passing that unlike the other Arrancar – Ulquiorra had two forms – his first "Resurreccion" and a "Segunda Etapa" which had caused his transformation into what she could only describe as a demon.

She wracked her brains for some logic – some way that she might be able to get the sword to respond to her. Zanpakutous only responded to their owner and master – they didn't just respond to anyone who picked them up and said the magic words – did they? Orihime knew this – but nevertheless she was so desperate to see Ulquiorra's face again that she would have tried anything.

"Please – please!" she said to the sword, shaking it a little as she spoke. "Murcielago – if you're there – if you can hear me – please appear to me!"

Again – the sword of course did not respond. Orihime grew more agitated.

"Urrrgh – why is this all I have? I didn't _ask_ for Murcielago – I asked for Ulquiorra!" she cried, feeling her emotions come raging through her chest. "Why have I got this – this stupid sword! I can't hold a sword, I can't get comfort from a sword!"

She took a sharp intake of breath – the sword was vibrating in her hands. The high pitched singing sound had started up again though she had done nothing, not even moved. What did this mean? What was she missing here? She felt that somehow she was missing something completely key to unravelling this entire situation. Why had she been given a sword instead of a body?

Because Ulquiorra's body had turned to ash... That meant that his body was lost, but his soul...

His soul was...

She gazed down at the humming metal as realisation came over her like a wave. Trembling with adrenaline, she held out the sword one more time – suddenly the words that needed to say coming unbidden to her lips.

"Open your eyes... Ulquiorra."

There was a flash of light and for barely an instant the room was bathed in green. The emerald flickers tumbled from the air like rain, hitting the carpet and dissipating into tiny wisps of smoke. Inoue didn't dare to breathe. Her eyes scanned left and right, but she didn't see him. "," she whispered, letting her eyelids flutter closed. _Please let him be there when I open my eyes_.

She took a step back but found she couldn't move. There was pressure behind her. No - there was a _wall_ behind her. Shaking uncontrollably, she turned and found herself looking into a stark white coat that hung down to the floor, splitting into two tails. The sword fell from her grasp, making a dull thud as it hit the rug and she sobbed.

Ulquiorra turned and caught her as she fell forward, burying her face in his coat and crying with utter abandon into the thick fabric. "Onna what... why are you crying?"

He felt stiff – it was an awkward sensation but not at all unpleasant. He just didn't know how to respond – he didn't feel that he knew what emotional response was required in the circumstance. One moment he had been standing somewhere far away in a lush and beautiful garden, the next he appeared in a vaguely familiar room, staring at a purple teddy bear on a shelf and not understanding how he'd gotten there.

"Onna..." he took her firmly by the shoulders and separated her from his person. Her tears were beginning to soak into his skin and her level of distress was, in some strange way, starting to get to him. "Orihime..."

Finally she calmed. The shock of her real name on his lips was enough to pull her back to reality and she gave him a watery smile. "I'm so glad... so glad you're safe," she sniffed. "I thought you were... you were gone."

"I _was_ gone," he corrected firmly, stepping back and sliding his hands into his pockets. "Onna, I was _dead_ – the fact that I'm here at all is completely illogical..." he looked up at her, his beautiful emerald orbs burning into hers with the same intensity they always had. "You had something to do with this." He definitely wasn't asking her.

"I didn't know... it was even possible," she said slowly. "But the sword... I just had this feeling."

Ulquiorra said nothing but simply waited for her to continue.

"Spirits live inside a zanpakutou. Those spirits have names. And when... when you call the name of the zanpakutou that spirit answers your prayers... or at least that's how I understand it."

The Arrancar wrinkled his nose almost imperceptibly. "That's the nursery school version, yes."

"Well I thought..." she swallowed and wiped her face with her sleeve. Ulquiorra felt something inside him melt. Why was it being back around this woman was already wearing down his unemotional facade? She continued, "I thought... what if Shun'o and Ayame could bring you back? And they did but, but they didn't bring back you – they just brought back..." she gestured to the blade on the carpet, "Murcielago."

"Wait so – you asked for them to bring me back, and they brought Murcielago to you?"

"Exactly," Orihime nodded her head before pushing her red bangs out of her eyes, "And I realised something had happened. That the spirit inside the sword wasn't... it wasn't Murcielago anymore, it was..."

"It was me." Ulquiorra rounded off her sentence grimly, reaching down and lifting the sword into his hand. It felt wonderfully familiar, and he suddenly realised how much he'd been missing it's presence. "So I'm not alive then," he concluded abruptly. "I am just the manifestation of my own soul, sealed within this sword."

"But you're here!" Orihime clasped her hands together in front of her, unable to contain her smiles, "Ulquiorra, you're here – I brought you back..."

The fourth Espada no longer appeared to be listening but instead just fixed his eyes on the sword, speaking as though she were no longer present at all. "Where then..." he said to himself quietly, "is Murcielago?"

While he could begin to wrap his remarkable intellect around the idea that his soul had somehow been put inside his zanpakutou – where now was the spirit that used to inhabit it? He firmly believed that more than one soul had lived in residence in Kurosaki's "Zangetsu" – that much had been evident when he'd been taken over by the beast that had torn him to shreds. Ulquiorra had spent some while in the spirit world within his zanpakutou and he had seen no other spirits there.

Ulquiorra had met and tamed Murcielago, and as such knew that such a creature could not be allowed to roam freely. Murcielago was the embodiment of everything dark and inhuman, the very essence of what it meant to be hollow. Murcielago thrived on fear and despair, spreading those great bat-like wings to put out all light before devouring souls by their thousands.

If the beast was no longer caged then he had to find it and to seal it. Even if it meant he had to share his new "home" with it's all-devouring maw.

"Ulquiorra... kun?" A soft voice murmured behind him, and finally he surfaced from his own thoughts. He turned and looked at Orihime, before kneeling to pick up the scabbard and sliding Murcie... well. It wasn't Murcielago anymore, was it? Now it was... him.

He placed the sword in her hands. "Be careful with that," he said sternly.

"I missed you," she said gently, taking the sword out of his hands, her fingers brushing over his quite intentionally as she did so.

"You really shouldn't... get so emotional," he replied as she put the sword against the edge of the bookcase to prop it upright and he took a step forward, the proximity of the body making her tremble pleasurably all over. "It's only death, onna."

She shook her head, silky loose strands of hair gliding over her shoulders. Without looking him in the eye she slid a hand up the front of his jacket along the zipper, her finger stopping at the collar and tracing a figure-of-eight across the fabric. The scent of him was all over her, and she breathed it in deep. "I know, I just... there were things I still... wanted to... say..."

Another inch closer and his hands were stroking through her hair. She felt his face brush against hers as he leant in to whisper breathily in her ear, "What things did you want to tell me?"

The first touch of their lips was electric. She turned her head, just barely catching his bottom lip with her top lip, but the moment the barrier was torn down it was as though every suppressed feeling was burnt up like gunpowder. She felt her back connect with the doorframe and a powerful hand grip her hip. For a split second she couldn't breathe as the sensation of excitement overwhelmed everything else. Ulquiorra was touching her – his hands – his mouth – his body was pressing against her.

She moaned against his lips as she felt him grind his arousal against her belly through layers and layers of frustrating clothing, and they parted.

Flushed cheeks, rosy lips and eyes ever so slightly glazed with lust, Orihime was the very epitome of every sexual thought Ulquiorra had ever had. He pulled back, but only to run his calculating eyes down her body. "Onna..." he breathed. "Why must you _always_... dress like a fucking schoolgirl..."

It was true – Orihime's wardrobe was modest, and contained little more than sensible jumpers, pleated skirts, and knee-high socks. Ulquiorra was far too proud to admit to Orihime that part of the reason she'd needed to change into her Arrancar attire was so he wouldn't have to see her every day in that tiny little uniform. The temptation was far too great for the horny likes of Grimmjow and Nnoitra. Even he'd had a difficult time suppressing his own lusts, and he considered himself a master of such things.

She wore such a skirt now – though this one a pleated tartan skirt from her wardrobe rather than a school skirt. All the same it revealed just enough creamy thigh to put his head into a spin and he grazed his fingers up her inner thigh to rub at her centre through her moistening panties. She mewled delightfully and he pressed her left leg more tightly against the wall beside them, widening the gap between her thighs and to slide 2 digits easily past the embroidered edges of her panties and into the slick heat.

"I'm going to fuck you, onna," he growled into her ear. "I'm going to fuck you – Orihime..."

"Orihime?"

Amongst Inoue's soft whines and Ulquiorra's lustful comments, another voice came into the mix, turning Inoue cold in a split second. She screamed and thrust out her knee, catching Ulquiorra in the diaphragm and winding him severely. Without his hierro engaged, he couldn't defend against it, and was sent into a coughing fit that wracked his whole body.

Yasutora "Chad" Sado stood in the doorway, his face an expression of utter confusion. Orihime coloured from head to foot, yanking her skirt down and just praying that Sado-kun hadn't seen anything too... private. She wanted to cry out of embarrassment. If the floor had opened that moment and sucked her back into Hueco Mundo, she would not have minded.

"Sado-kun!" she squealed. "I didn't... I mean... umm, I was choking and Ulq..."

Chad just looked more confused than ever, "Inoue-san," he interrupted. "You left the door unlocked – then I heard you... making noises. You are okay though, yes?"

"Umm... yes I uhh... of course..." she replied.

"Nobody's here, right? Did somebody threaten you?"

Inoue screwed her face up, perplexed. "Well... I... you mean you can't see... anyone... else?"

Sado looked from left to right, then from right to left. Then he looked at Orihime again. "No, we were worried," he said. "We were worried because you're here all by yourself."

Orihime couldn't help but stare at Ulquiorra. There he was right in front of her, composed again, and clearly as interested in the situation as she. He approached Sado until he was right in front of him, literally obscuring Sado's view of Inoue – but didn't register his presence at all. "Sado," he said, loudly. "Do you see me?"

"Inoue..." Chad repeated, worriedly. "You are concerning me – do you mind if I look around?"

"Umm... no... no I guess not."

Chad nodded and stepped forward, right through Ulquiorra as if he wasn't there at all. The Espada gasped, as he was stepped through despite himself, feeling a sickness seize his gut and almost cause him to gag. He turned, observing Sado in silence as the tall human looked first into the kitchen, then the bathroom and finally the bedroom, before returning to the living room. He sighed.

"Okay," he said eventually. "Inoue... Uryuu called me and asked me to stop by and see how you were. What shall I...?"

"Oh – tell him I'm fine," she said with an over enthusiastic giggle, pushing Sado quickly towards the door. "I'm fine I'm fine – I'm feeling much better actually – I think I'll be coming back to school soon! Tomorrow even maybe – but right now I might make some dinner! I'm thinking maybe pineapple and dumplings, and..."

Chad turned as he reached the door, peering down at Orihime out of his one visible eye. "Anything happens," he said, "Call me."

After that, he turned on his tail and disappeared off down the stairs.

Orihime closed and locked the door.

"You're the only one that can see me," said Ulquiorra quietly. "That's going to be... problematic."


	4. My So Called Life

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to everyone who's been reading this fic – and for the reviews – it's always awesome to get feedback.

**Lilarin** I do know what you mean – Ulquiorra's use of swears in Chapter 3 was something I agonised over a little bit. Ulquiorra is actually one of a number of characters in Bleach who tend to steer clear of outright swearing in favour of "trash" and "degenerate scum" and I think it's fair to say I may have compromised on character accuracy for impact on that particular occasion. We won't see a lot of swearing from Ulquiorra in future chapters (though no doubt being around Ichigo and Abarai for any length of time would surely worsen anybody's language considerably...)

**Warnings:** No swearing – yay! Things get very hot and juicy towards the end of this chapter though – so if you're not keen on that sort of thing then I recommend that as soon as any talk about "panties" starts, you skip to the next chapter! (which doesn't exist yet – oops)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. I just like to put Ulquiorra in all sorts of embarrassing situations for my own amusement.

Murcielago

4. My So-Called Life

Ulquiorra stood in Orihime's little kitchen, observing her cooking in silence and occasionally moving a few inches to the left of right so that she could get something out of the cupboard. Watching her prepare food was a little like watching a cyclone plough into a food repository. Ingredients were on every surface, some of them with exceedingly conflicting flavours that he couldn't imagine worked together. It had been a long, long time since he'd last eaten a meal. He had consumed souls – but nothing that could be described as real food. His body was capable of processing it – it had all of the required organs – but he didn't _need_ to eat to live. Or at least... he hadn't needed to eat before he'd... died.

He was still having difficulty understanding that new aspect of his existence. He was dead, but he was here, in the world of the living. He already had a Hollow hole, so it wasn't like he had a chain or the links were degrading. He could – in theory – remain here as long as he wanted – but what would such a thing achieve?

"A gigai!"

Orihime suddenly turned around, holding her spoon in the air triumphantly. A large sloppy bit of whatever beige mush she had on it fell off the spoon and landed in the bowl she was holding with a huge splat.

"I beg your pardon?" he enquired.

"A gigai – a faux body!" she said excitedly, moving with the bowl over to a large pot which was on the hob and pouring the contents inside. "Kuchiki-san had a gigai after she gave all of her powers to Kurosaki-kun – and Abarai-kun and Rangiku-san use them all the time when they are staying here."

"I understand the theory," he said, waving a hand dismissively, "But to what end what I use such a thing?"

"Well... for touching things I guess!" she laughed, dropping the bowl and spoon into the sink for washing later, drawing a fresh knife from the drawer and beginning to chop vegetables. "And so that people can see you!"

"There is," he said, approaching her slowly from behind and lightly touching her hips with his hands, "Only one thing I want to touch, and I can already touch it. In terms of being seen by the others, I do not see how this benefits me in any way."

"Ohh!" Orihime turned around and Ulquiorra nearly got the business end of a carving knife up the nose. "No no – that's not true at all!" she said, "It would be very useful for them to see you – how am I going to explain what has happened to you otherwise?"

"As I said," gently pushing her hand to the right so he wasn't at risk of a lobotomy, "I can touch everything that I need to touch, and as for your friends – I think you should consider very _very_ carefully before tell them that the enemy that they fought so hard against is now living in a sword." He sighed and looked the kitchen utensil up and down. "Onna, that is an unnecessarily large implement for the task at hand."

"Ooh – _that's what she said_!" Orihime giggled suddenly, covering her mouth with her other hand and tittering girlishly.

"... I don't follow."

"Well, there's this boy in my class called Keigo Asano, and whenever you say something that sounds just a _little_ bit dirty, he always says, "That's what she said" because, well... you know," she winked at him meaningfully, "_that's_ what _she_ said?"

"... He sounds like a moron."

Ulquiorra moved his hand passed her to reach for the knife rack that side on the countertop, "I don't want you cutting your fingers off - what about one more this siz..." he stopped as his hand, of course, went right through the handle of the knife and he came back with nothing. He felt that same slightly sick feeling in his belly again – the sensation of matter passing through his spirit body was uncomfortable to say the least. He could touch Orihime, yes – and he could touch his own sword - but in order to find Murcielago he knew that having a physical body in this realm could be useful.

"He's just..." she shrugged. "He's just being a guy."

"Are all "guys" in the living world morons, then?"

Orihime tilted her head to one side and shrugged. "Some."

"How do I go about getting one of these "gigai" bodies?"

Inoue grinned toothily, "Oh yay – I knew you'd think it was a good idea! We should go and see Urahara-san tomorrow morning! Oop..." she slipped out of his hands and went to the stove, turning down the heat and stirring the contents of the saucepan, which was beginning to look like a cross between porridge and vomit.

"Onna, what _is_ that concoction," he asked worriedly. "You're not planning to eat it, are you? Surely its purpose is as some kind of sealant or glue."

"Huh?" she looked up at him, wide eyed and surprised, "Of course – it's going to be our dinner! You can finally have some of my cooking!"

"Onna, I cannot touch anything – how am I supposed to eat the food?" he rebutted, sharply.

"Oh right... I forgot about that." She looked so momentarily downcast that Ulquiorra immediately regretted having snapped at her.

It was easy enough a thing to forget. After all, he was standing in her kitchen talking to her – no doubt some kind of human preoccupation with making their guests comfortable had dominated her subconscious, so now they had enough food for 2 people or more.

"Ulquiorra – can I ask you something?"

He rolled his huge green orbs and said, "Very well."

"Umm" – she pointed at his chest where his hollow hole could clearly be seen on his upper chest. "When you eat, where does your food go? I mean I know you don't eat now – but you don't have like... some of your organs are missing," she said tentatively.

"Well observed," he responded sarcastically, following Inoue as she spooned a bowlful of ooze into a dish and then headed into the sitting room, kneeling down beside the table. "I do have organs, they are just not where you might expect them to be. I do not have the same human physiology as you do. There are organs I need and organs I don't need."

"Don't... need?"

He noted the way her eyes were irresistibly drawn downwards.

"... I have _those_ organs," he said, quickly sitting down beside her and looking away. Orihime smiled with a mouthful of dinner. He was affronted.

"So what organs are missing?" she continued, continuing to eat hungrily. Another masterpiece! How was it that she always outdid herself in the kitchen?

"I have no need for a heart so I do not have one," he said plainly. "I have basic digestive abilities, and of course a brain, and I need lungs in order to speak – but I do not have the more unnecessary organs which humans need to live."

"Like a... pancreas?" Orihime sucked on her spoon and thought back to biology class. "What about an appendix?"

"No, I have neither."

"Liver? Gall bladder?"

"Liver – yes – gall bladder no."

"How about..."

"Onna, do you just intend to name all of the bodily organs in your biology book?" his gaze caught her off guard and she put down her bowl.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Having a heart."

Ulquiorra lifted a hand to the hole unthinkingly. He traced the edge of one side in silence before he spoke. "I don't remember having a heart, so there is nothing to miss. From everything that I have read – and I have researched humanity at length in the libraries of Los Noches – a heart is a great weakness to humans. It causes them to behave in ridiculous and illogical ways, frequently getting themselves injured, killed or emotionally destabilised all through the pursuit of this _notion_ they call _love_.

"You don't believe in love?" Orihime looked over sadly, and Ulquiorra knew he'd hit a nerve.

"No – of course not," he said, shifting in discomfort. He didn't like to follow this line of conversation – Orihime would not take his response well, he knew. "Love is everything that is wrong with humans. You mistake chemical messages being sent to your brain for "attraction" and foolish dependency on another person for "dedication" or "faithfulness". In fact the human race has spent whole eras of it's existence coming up with euphemisms to turn ordinary, everyday bodily reactions into magical occurrences. It's absurd."

"I guess maybe... Yes... umm... pudding!" said Orihime, changing the subject abruptly and hopping up off the couch, grabbing her bowl off the table. She scurried back into the kitchen, and Ulquiorra rose, standing by the doorway to watch her. She took the pan off the hob, turning off the heat as she did so, then placed the pan on the sink. "Yay – leftovers!" she said to herself. "Must remember to put those in a Tupperware pot before I go to sleep..."

The fourth Espada didn't say anything further, but watched her go about busily preparing a bowl of icecream while simultaneously tidying the kitchen. Fatigue from her recent injuries was beginning to come over her, and he saw her briefly lean against the edge of the sink as she went to don her washing up gloves. It was frustrating, not being able to help, or touch anything. It made him feel dirty, like some kind of silent voyeur. It wasn't like it was the first time that he had simply spent time with Orihime observing her – but that was always with the intention of understanding her powers or her personality enough to manipulate her into serving Lord Aizen. He had never just observed her for the pleasure of the exercise – but it was pleasing none-the-less. The hem of her little pleated skirt flicked back and forth as she moved around, accenting smooth, pale legs. How had a woman been born with such a form and yet never become even the slightest bit arrogant or amoral with it? As per usual – everything about Inoue defied logic and reason.

She finally put down the sponge and was unable to suppress a yawn that crept up on her from nowhere, and caused her to cover her mouth as her cheeks reddened. "Oops!" she squeaked, "Guess it's time for... for bed." She tugged on the sleeve of her jumper nervously. "Did you want to umm sleep on the couch?"

Ulquiorra glanced over his shoulder at the little maroon two-seater in the living room, then back at Orihime. "If that is what you would wish."

Inoue chewed her bottom lip, gazing up at him out of stormy grey eyes, full of nervous anticipation. "No... You'd be so far away." she said quietly. But did she want him in her _bed_?

She wished for a moment that she was a confident, sexual woman like Rangiku-san, and not still so trapped in her adolescence. She must have seemed like such a child to someone like Ulquiorra.

If that were the case, though, the fourth Espada didn't display any signs of thinking that way. He moved away from the door, walking down the hallway, "Which one is your bedroom? Ah – it must be this one."

"No!" she squealed, running down the hallway and hurling herself in front of the door, just as Ulquiorra moved to step through the wood.

"Oh," he said, "What's in there that you do not wish me to see?"

"N-nothing!" she stammered, trying to remember. It wasn't that there was anything in her room that you wouldn't expect to see in the bedroom of a sixteen year old girl – just the usual trinkets, photos and occasional cuddly toy – but it had been the room where she'd spent the last few years growing up on her own, and nobody except Tatsuki-chan had ever been in there with her before.

"You cannot hide anything from my eyes," he said. "They see all – do you not remember?"

"Yes, I remember," she replied, a little mesmerised by the sea of green accompanied with the soft, growly tone of his voice. "Okay," she stood aside and Ulquiorra held his breath and passed through the woodwork.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever become accustomed to that sensation – but nonetheless it was what he had to suffer with for now. He opened his eyes on the far side, taking in the girl's room at his leisure. Orihime – out of fear perhaps, or patience – continued to wait on the other side of the door.

He removed a hand from his pocket briefly to push back his jet black bangs, and walked slowly to the bureau, eyeing the collection of little models that stood on top of the varnished wood. Fairies, mostly – the tiny smiling imps peered up at him curiously, their wings covered with glitter, frozen in little ceramic woodland scenes.

Of course she liked fairies, he reasoned. She, unlike most girls, knew they were actually real. Standing on a very ancient crocheted mat was a photo in a frame of Inoue standing with her friends and smiling. Sado was in the back, towering above the others, with Kurosaki, Tatsuki, Uryuu, Kuchiki and a number of other teenagers he didn't recognise standing nearby or hugging each other.

_This_, he considered to himself, _This is the onna's "heart"._

He closed his eyes and searched his mind and body for some kind of emotional response to this. He knew that he should be feeling something, but yet his body just didn't react like it should. He didn't feel happy for her, or jealous, or anything.

"That was taken the day we had a school trip to the beach," she said, coming up behind him and brushing past him to pick up the picture. He hadn't even heard her come in. "See you can see in the background that the sky is cloudy..." she laughed to herself, "It rained the _whole_ day, but because we had each other it was still so much fun. We hung out near the school bus drinking hot chocolate and playing cards – and as we were the only students in the class having fun, our teacher took that picture."

"I forget sometimes that you are just a schoolgirl, onna," Ulquiorra agreed, moving away from her. Inoue felt suddenly queasy, but followed him as he continued looking around, moving over to her dressing table. He leant down to look into the mirror. As he suspected, no reflection gazed back at him. "Hmm," was all he said.

Still distracted by their prior conversation, Inoue said, "I'm mature for my age though," she said, patting herself on the chest. "My big brother Sora always said I was tough enough to take care of myself."

"I suspect that he was just humouring you, onna," Ulquiorra returned without looking at her. He was inspecting a pair of eyelash curlers and wondering who would purchase, let alone invent, such a contraption. "And you are not mature for your age – in fact I'd say you are bordering on naive."

"Oh... right."

Awkward.

Just as Inoue was feeling that there wasn't a lot that Ulquiorra could say at that moment to make her feel worse, he stood up, turned and stroked a few stray strands of her auburn hair back behind her ear. "As a consequence I shall have to be very, very careful with you. Now," he indicated to the bed with his gaze, "Lie down."

"Ah okay," she grinned and clapped her hands, "I am so tired – I feel like I could just fall asleep in a second!"

She sat down on the edge of the bed and Ulquiorra watched in fascination as she slid her jumper up over her head and dropped it on the floor, then slid off her socks and skirt. Down to just her underwear, shyness overcame her and she paused. Ulquiorra had known that it would cut in sooner or later to ruin the unveiling. He didn't mind though. Whatever bashfulness she displayed only reinforced his belief that she was every bit as unspoiled as he believed her to be.

"Lie down," he said again. "Then slide off your panties." He swept around to the end of the bed and sat down. He didn't so much _sit_ as know where the bed _should_ be. For some reason he found he was able to stand on Inoue's floor of the building without sinking into it – so there were _some_ rules to his existence then.

"But your head's going to be down... oh..." she whispered.

"That's right," he agreed. "Now slide off your panties."

Inoue hesitated a moment longer, but Ulquiorra kept his gaze upon her until finally she put her legs up on to the bed and hooked her fingers around the elastic and slid her knickers down until she could kick them off of the end of her toe. Ulquiorra slipped in, lifting her ankle and letting it sit on his shoulder, pushing back her other leg aside to expose her. Her whole leg tensed and he felt her push back in an attempt to hide her modesty.

"Ulquiorra I... I don't think... you don't need to do anything for me," she stumbled over her words as she felt a wisp of his breath over her lightly moist womanhood.

"Shhh," he hushed her. "It'll help you sleep. Relax."

"But you're in my..." she huffed and folded her arms over the soft lace of her bra. "Fine."

"So stubborn," he murmured, nuzzling her warmth lightly with his lips, before lazily trailing his tongue up the length of her slit and pressing his lips around the bundle of flesh and nerve endings where her sensitive little nub was hidden, the wound his tongue around it, running the tip in circles around her centre.

Orihime curled her toes, pulling the top layer of her sheets and wrapping them around her fingers. "That... th-that feels so," her eyelids fluttered gently closed and the resistance against Ulquiorra's hand ceased, allowing him to part her legs further, stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh with his fingertips before moving his hand to gently part her folds and flick his tongue into the depths of her moisture.

"Mmm," Ulquiorra curled up his tongue, sliding it out of her heat and up again, smoothing her slick juice over her folds before delving the tip a little deeper to massage her hidden gem.

Orihime tensed her muscles, letting her gaze come in and out of focus as she looked up at the ceiling. Heat and pleasure was creeping all through her now, spreading up through her chest. She lifted her hand to her breast, feeling her nipple hardening into a peak under her arousal. She gave it a tiny squeeze and it sent a shiver down her belly. She didn't need to look at Ulquiorra to know those great glassy green orbs were focussed on what she was doing to herself, but she just couldn't. Not yet. A hot flush came over her and she moved her hand away from herself, shifting closer to his mouth and catching his soft forelock in her fingers. "'Quiorra..." she said, the first syllable lost as he swept his tongue over her folds, and dipped into her moisture again, before sliding it up to rub her clit, then without warning sunk three long pale fingers into her.

She moaned – the sound was utterly foreign to her – like something from a dirty movie. She felt the blush getting worse, but she couldn't stop the tremours going through her thighs, and the sensation of something building until it was ready to burst. Her breath was coming in pants now, and she couldn't seem to think a clear thought. All she could focus on was the delicious feel of Ulquiorra's tongue and every tiny flick and lap he made at her delicate little nub. He slid his fingers in and out, in and out, curling the tips to stroke inside her as he went in short but precise motions to stimulate every tender inch.

She couldn't take it anymore. The world was slipping away from her.

"Oh... oh God..." With a gasp she felt the whole of her body go into spasm. Ulquiorra caught her thigh before it connected with his bone helmet, holding her legs open so he lap greedily at her moisture, while she quivered all over, her chest rising and falling with each pant seductively. He only stopped for fear of her becoming too oversensitised, at which point he placed a kiss just below her navel and then another just below her breasts.

"Onna, I..." he murmured, lifting a hand to move up nearer her face, but the hand was fading before his eyes. His ministrations had done their job - Inoue was falling asleep. He should have known – if his "master" fell unconscious – a zanpakutou would return to its unreleased form. He was being pulled back to the spirit world.

He looked at her smiling sleepy face one more time, and vanished.


	5. Shadows In The Mind

**Author's Note: ** Sorry it's been such a long time since the last update. Another couple of totally crazy weeks at work await me. I'll try and get together the next chapter as soon as I can – but it may take a little time.

**Warnings: **Only very light perving – definitely nothing any higher than a PG certificate.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach – but I do so love making the characters do naughty things to each other.

Murcielago

5. Shadows In The Mind

Ulquiorra stood alone in the midnight garden, his hands pushed deep into his pockets, his expression blank. No onlooker could possibly have taken a guess at what he was thinking based upon the look upon his face, but beneath his brow his brain was working frantically.

_Where am I?_ He thought. He was back where he had been before – when he had first been revived. Ulquiorra had visited his inner world – the world where Murcielago resided when he was not unleashed – twice before – once to tame the beast, and a second time when he had reached his Segunda Etapa. That world had been nothing like this. That world had been a rough landscape filled with darkness and despair – but this place was beautiful and peaceful and filled with such flora and fauna as he had never seen before.

No, this wasn't his inner world, he realised. This was Inoue Orihime's inner world.

_How wonderful it must be_, he mused, _to have such calm and peace and love inside your heart_. This world was everything he would expect from the girl who he had brought to Las Noches all those months before. It was a fairytale – a world made of dreams. It was surprising that the trees were not made of candyfloss and other sickly treats. The garden was overgrown – deeply so – with long blades of grass stroking his knees as he paced further into the leaves, leaving a dewy dampness on his hakama and started to seep up his coat tails, making them heavy with water.

He paused by a tree, lifting his hand to it's trunk and marvelling at how real it all seemed. When he had visited his own inner world, everything had felt distorted – like he was in a nightmare – but Orihime's inner world seemed altogether real.

* * *

><p>Ishida had been having trouble sleeping ever since their return to the mortal plain. His body had healed perfectly thanks to Inoue - without so much as an ache or pain despite the severe beating he'd received. Ishida was no stranger to pain in any case; it was a restless mind that kept him awake - despite his body's protestations on the matter. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something felt <em>amiss<em> - something more than just Orihime taking leave of her senses.

Uryuu cared for Inoue far more than he would ever have admitted. Nothing that could be considered romantic love - it was something far more instinctual than that. He loved her like a sister - and felt fiercely protective of her. He didn't pretend to understand what this most recent change in her behaviour meant. Just that something awful had happened to her and she wasn't able to cope with the sudden impact that had on how she felt and what she thought about everything and everyone around her.

He was a logical, scientific man - he knew it was impossible to believe that someone as soft and sensitive as Orihime would be able to make it through an ordeal in Los Noches psychologically unscathed. She would be hurting. If Ulquiorra had been the one constant she had had throughout, then it was no surprise that she had been devastated by his death. He had probably seemed like the only friend she had.

This night he was sat on his roof and looking up at the stars - at least - what he could see of them. A dark and murky layer of cloud had come in from the west and gradually, throughout the twilight, he had watched all the stars over Karakura Town glimmer and then wink out of existence like so many candles on a birthday cake.

Ishida didn't put much stock in notions like "gut" feeling; that was Kurosaki's area, but if he were to put belief in such things, he would have admitted to an unwelcome sense of foreboding. The air was peculiarly warm for the time of year - and the wind was starting to get up and bluster around the chimney pots, whistling as it went. He wasn't afraid of a little storm - in fact he found the idea quite energising - but there was just something that didn't feel right that night. Normally he could sense the reiatsu of the rest of his friends - and maybe it was just the electrical static from the storm - but right now he was having a hard time getting a fix on anyone.

Maybe it was just the exhaustion starting to take its toll. It had been a long few days with a lot of worrying about Orihime. Even now she was awake from her coma, she seemed off - and he'd noticed her pretending to be asleep more than once when he'd visited her. Such behaviour was normal for almost anyone, but not friendly, eager-to-please Inoue. It was as though all of that openness of manner and naive kindness was under lock and key. New Orihime was quiet, thoughtful and mistrustful.

If any of the Espada ever raised their dirty heads, Ishida would kill them all over again, and enjoy doing it. They'd taken an innocent flower and poisoned it from the roots. The rot had set in. It was a terrible thing to think about a close friend - but Ishida had seen it happen before. Friends overcome by their inner darkness - literally and figuratively.

He sighed and sat up, resting his elbow on his knee and running a hand through his hair, correcting its wayward angle before pushing his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose.

Enough - none of this thinking was getting him anywhere - besides he had a test tomorrow and though he knew the material off by heart, his performance would not be improved by only sleeping a couple of hours. Maybe he'd get lucky and he'd doze off once he went to bed.

He doubted it though. He took one last look at the sky, then dropped down to his window sill as light footed as a deer, and was swallowed by the darkness within.

Ishida had been gone but a few minutes when something fathomlessly black landed on his roof. If he'd still been there he might have mistaken it for a shadow. When it moved the air around it shimmered like a slip of silk. It flexed a long clawed hand, staring down at its recently assumed body in wonderment. After so many hundreds of years cooped up inside that prison, to be liberated was intoxicating. What a beautiful night to fly. To feed. Thousands of teeny tiny souls tickling his taste buds.

His incarceration had done horrendous things to his body and strength. Even now he knew he was barely even here - he needed sustenance. The Quincy smelled like such a tasty morsel but he'd fight back and right now he didn't possess the fortitude to take it on and win. A fine selection of horrors awaited the boy; but not yet. Not until he could overwhelm him completely and suck him into the depths, devouring him completely.

But the promise of that was more than sufficient to keep him going for now. A long forked tongue squirmed out of his mouth and licked his black lips hungrily. He flexed a pair of soot coloured leathery wings and took off into the overcast sky.

* * *

><p>Orihime awoke with a start and sat upright in bed. Sunlight was bursting from between her floral curtains in big bright shafts that spliced up the carpet and the bedclothes. Birds were twittering, and she could hear the thump thump thump of her neighbours as they moved around upstairs in her apartment block. Suddenly surrounded by so much activity she was – momentarily – rather confused about where she was and how she'd got here, let alone how she'd ended up sleeping the whole night on top of her quilt with her panties around her ankles.<p>

Remembrance was warm and welcome but nonetheless a little embarrassing, and she coloured noticeably. Ulquiorra was so much more worldly. She wasn't sure whether she had ever considered him a sexual being during her captivity. Reserved was more the world – quiet and controlled without being shy – just someone who gave almost nothing away and drank you in when you were before them like great piece of art.

Dressed only in a frilly pink bra and no panties, Orihime slid off the bed and raided her chest of drawers for fresh, clean underwear and threw a huge woolly jumper on over the top, then scampered into the living room as fast as she could go. It had already felt like too long since she'd last seen Ulquiorra – the whole thing felt like a dream and she feared that she'd raise the sword again to find she'd had some kind of terrible hallucination brought on by all the recent stress. The sword was where she'd left it on the coffee table, firmly back inside it's scabbard. She gripped it tightly and held it horizontally, unsheathing it a fraction of an inch and letting the morning sun bounce off the blade.

"Open your eyes – Ulquiorra!" she croaked, suddenly conscious that they were the first words she'd spoken that morning, and as such her throat was still a little claggy from not yet having been used that day. It mattered not, however, and the blade sang like a nightingale as she leased it from it's scabbard, swung it outward and, in the process, chopped a great swathe of material off the living room curtains.

"If you're going to keep doing that, you are going to need some considerable training," a voice commented dryly, and Orihime whirled around with a squeak of happiness. Ulquiorra dodged nimbly – the sword itself was the only thing in this Universe that it seemed he could touch – other than Orihime – and as such he didn't fancy being impaled by it before breakfast. Orihime threw herself at him, dropping the sword which embedded itself point-first in the shag rug and wrapped her arms around his waist.

It was a strange feeling – being hugged. Ulquiorra didn't know whether he approved of this or not. It all seemed very soft and girlie, and he was generally not accustomed to such sensations. If Grimmjow or Nnoitra had still been alive he was sure he would have been ridiculed without reservation. He peeled Orihime off, holding her upper arms and regarding her smiling, unwashed face.

"Onna – you need to bathe."

The limitless joy with which she had pounced him seemed to drain from her face a bit, and she reddened, taking a deep sniff of one of her armpits which Ulquiorra couldn't fail to find endearing despite his best attempts. "Ah – I'm sorry – I guess I didn't get the chance yesterday night – what with… everything." Ulquiorra remembered precisely what she was referring to – but he was of the extensive age now where very few things could draw a blush from him.

"That was a required exercise," he said simply, adjusting the huge sweater she wore so that the sleeves sat evenly on her shoulders.

_Required exercise_ was probably the last thing that Orihime would have called it. It sounded utterly alien to have something so enjoyable and so… well – _loving_ – called a "required exercise". She said so to Ulquiorra, "I didn't… require anything," she said, a little indignantly. "You…" she foundered for the right words.

"_Insisted_," Ulquiorra interjected. "I know." He didn't smile, but Orihime was almost certain she saw something just a little merry behind that measured green gaze. "Now – bath. I will…" he gestured to the space around him with a hand, "wait here."

There wasn't very much for him to do than wait – he realised. As he couldn't interact with things – he couldn't really do anything. He couldn't read unless Orihime turned the pages. He could practise his sword-craft – so that was something – but it was important for them to sort him out one of these gigais as soon as possible. Until then – quite literally – his entire world was going to revolve around the world of one Orihime Inoue.

Inoue, who had disappeared to her room to strip off and bundle herself into a towel, emerged into the hallway – then gestured towards the bathroom. Her loose auburn hair, still messy from a night's sleep, sat silkily around her neck, a tendril muddling its way down to perch on top of her cleavage which was generously spilling from the fluffy white towel. "I'll just be 15 minutes," she said with a giggle, which nearly resulted in even more breast escaping.

Ulquiorra turned away and tried not to notice. If there was any woman in the world he least minded his world having to revolve around – it was certainly Orihime. He pressed a smooth, pale hand to his forehead and then covered his eyes, letting out a slow sigh. He'd seen just a little taste of that untouched body of hers but he was dying for another chance to run his tongue over her. Away from Hueco Mundo, where everything was dry, white and colourless, the real world was arousing in him sensation, again. He could still practically taste her on his lips from the night before, so willing and compliant, and the _noises_ she made…

He grimaced and pressed his eyes tightly closed, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his hamaka pants. Fortunately his mind had enough dark places to go to that any such thoughts were very soon miles away.

* * *

><p>Less than half an hour later, the door slammed closed and Orihime put a second key in the door to double-lock it against intruders. Not that it would be much protection against the types of intruders she seemed to get – ones who could walk through walls or simply knock through them, but it made her feel a fraction safer. She was far safer now that Ulquiorra was by her side – she thought – but then they hadn't seen him to put to the test as yet. Could he interact with Hollow? Would he be willing to destroy them to preserve the Shinigami – the same people who has murdered his Espada brethren?<p>

It was a grim consideration – Orihime _needed_ for Ulquiorra to be on her side now. She _needed_ him to embrace life on their side of the war, or there was no doubt that Kurosaki and the others would need to kill him, or would at least try. She wouldn't be able to say anything to save Ulquiorra if – once he possessed a gigai – he used it to try and kill her friends. She knew he had some kind of feelings for her… but that didn't mean for a moment that his old intentions of killing them weren't masked rather than gone for good.

There was no easy way to ask, either.

"It should only be a short walk to get to the Urahara Store," she said.

"Onna, it is for _your_ benefit that we are walking," Ulquiorra stated firmly. "I am not confined to the ground." He flew a few feet off the ground to demonstrate. If anything - he believed that if he tried he could fly even faster than he had before – he didn't seem to be _made_ of anything – and it was extremely disconcerting.

"Ah – of course! Silly me," she said softly, grinning her winsome grin. "Well well – let's get going!"

She went to take his arm, but Ulquiorra shifted away slightly, "Onna you really need to think – you cannot hold my arm – nor should we talk as we go – these other humans will think that you have lost your senses. It might make a lot more sense if you reseal me inside the sword."

"I'm not even sure how…" Orihime said uncertainly. The sword was already back in it's sheath but that hadn't resulted in Ulquiorra going away. In fact, at the moment the only sure-fire way she knew of getting Ulquiorra to disappear was through falling unconscious – but now wasn't a very convenient moment.

"Do you have any ideas Ulquiorra?"

Honestly, Ulquiorra had believed that resheathing the sword should work – so now (though he'd never admit it) he was a bit stumped. "You could try saying the words as you said them before? But maybe now "Close" rather than "Open"?"

"Ah yes – that might work!" she giggled, pulling out the sword immediately in the middle of the street. Ulquiorra didn't gape (as any other person surely would) but his eyes widened slightly. "CLOSE YOUR EYES – ULQUIORRA!"

"Now you see that didn't work and now you look not only crazy but armed and crazy," Ulquiorra folded his arms.

"Hmm… this is more tricky than I thought," Inoue agreed, putting the sword back into the scabbard again. Waving it around in the street any further didn't seem to be a very good idea. "I will ask Urahara-san – he knows everything."

Ulquiorra certainly hoped he did. Not that the idea of going back into the sword filled him with glee – but equally now he was stuck for another 15 minutes listening to Orihime waffle on about the suitability of mixing sultanas into chicken soup 'to bring out the flavour' and though she was adorable in her own strange way, he had greater concerns on his mind and he needed some more time to think.

However hard he'd scoured the world within his sword, Murcielago was no longer residing there. It had taken all of his strength of defeat the creature, which had threaten to devour him whole – and to know it could be loose was frightening. Even if it meant being sealed within the sword forever with the beast, he needed to find it and bring it back inside with him, or there was a chance it would destroy everything any of them had ever known.

He let his eyes settle on the babbling girl, pretending to listen and letting the sweet sound of her voice wash over him.

Whatever the cost – Murcielago had to be found.


End file.
